Saddle Soreness
by dev.daily
Summary: Michonne, a reluctant city girl, has no desire to spend her time on a farm- even if it is just for the weekend. However, when she arrives on the drab farm, she finds a certain blue-eyed someone who just might make the weekend worthwhile.


Here's a little AU one-shot. I have tons of story ideas and I'm trying to get back in the swing of writing and decided to use this to get the juices flowing. Hope you guys enjoy. I don't own TWD.

* * *

She doesn't know why she's surprised by her surroundings. It's exactly what Maggie said it would be.

A ranch.

It's her fault for thinking she'd meant some type of Nevada style brothel-esque ranch. Maggie wasn't that kind of person and neither was she if she was being honest. Michonne was, however, more cut out for that than anything the dusty looking barn had in store for her. Planked on both sides by stables and fences, the curb appeal was lacking- nonexistent, even. She could practically smell the horse shit through the window and she wasn't pleased about it.

The flight from Philadelphia to Atlanta was turbulent. Hindsight now alerting her that it may have been foreshadowing for her weekend ahead. The ride from the airport was too long. They'd left civilization miles back, leaving a scenic route out of the question. She'd only seen dust and dirt for nearly an hour and now her final destination left much to be desired.

Sighing resignedly, she pushed her sunglasses up the tip of her nose and emerged from the backseat of the black SUV that looked just as out of place in front of the dusty residence as she felt. She loved Maggie, she did. They'd been close since their freshman year of college, but it was times like this she wished she'd followed in her parents' footsteps and attended Howard. There wasn't an HBCU alum on the planet that would have her ass in middle of nowhere.

"Michonne!" A voice interrupted her thoughts. Sasha was running toward her, waving like a madwoman. She hurriedly grabbed her bag, rushing her away from the car. "Thank God you're here. Maggie has a schedule and it's time to feed goats."

It was Maggie's bachelorette weekend. One that Michonne had offered to plan more than once. A spa trip. Relaxing by the pool. Manicures and massages. A stripper. That's what you do for a bride-to-be's last hoorah. Instead they found themselves in the middle of nowhere mingling with livestock and avoiding manure. It's what Maggie wanted and with just a month's time until her early September wedding to her fiancé, Glenn, her friends were just happy to spend time with her before she was tied down forever.

"Wh-"

"Yes, Michonne, goats." She said, stopping the question before it even left her mouth and pushing her toward the main house.

The pair had also been friends since their freshman year, when they were the two newest members of Penn State's volleyball team. Technically, they'd met first- in the summer _before_ freshman year. And Sasha never let any of their other friends forget it. And even though everyone acted like it was irrelevant, they were the closest to each other.

"You look good, by the way. A little overdressed, but good." Sasha commented, lugging Michonne's suitcase up the stairs of the porch.

Michonne rolled her eyes. "If I'd known we'd be reenacting the Dukes of Hazard this weekend, I would have dressed accordingly."

She looked at the house up close. It was still in need of a few tweaks, but had a bit more charm the nearer you got. The large wrap around porch had a swing and rocking chairs. The blue shudders against the yellow siding were reminiscent of the house from the Notebook, just a bit tackier than the traditional white of the movie. It was cute in a down home, country sort of way, though it clashed with the red barn and stables directly beside it.

She was a city girl through and through, but she could appreciate the southern charm of the property. Michonne had never given much thought to leaving Philly behind and she still had no desire to, but she could see the appeal in this slower life.

"Alright," Sasha started, as she flung open the door. "It's like a bread and breakfast kinda thing, so the owner lives on the third floor and we're all on the second. We all picked already, so-"

"So I get the smallest room with the twin bed?" Michonne finished for her friend.

Sasha shrugged, trying to fight the smirk. "Early bird gets the worm."

Michonne stuck her tongue out at her friend, pulling the suitcase from her hands. "I got it from here. I can figure out where to go."

"But if I'm not helping you, I'll have to feed the goats?" Sasha mumbled.

"Exactly." Michonne said with a bright smile. "Miss early bird got the worm, but the second mouse is getting her cheese."

Michonne sent Sasha off with a smack on the bum and started her trek further into the house. Looking around, she saw that it was completely updated. Hard wood floors and high ceilings spread throughout the first floor. A large white staircase was the focal point of the foyer with an open kitchen to the right and a large living area to the left. Natural light spilled in through the large windows. From where she stood, a lot of the decor and furniture was wood. But it wasn't overpowering. It was homey and comfortable, with a few subtle upscale touches.

She was in no rush to feed goats, pigs, or anything else that might be lurking outside; so she took her time. Michonne mosied upstairs, her suitcase bumping along behind her. She checked in each of the guest rooms, silently cursing her friends for taking the larger beds and more spacious areas.

After peeking into the rooms she wouldn't be spending her weekend in, she arrived at her own. It was situated at the very end of the hallway, tucked in a corner away from the others. Despite its smaller size, it still impressed her. From the outside, she'd never guess the interior would be so modern.

A large mirror adorned one of three stark white walls. The sheets and duvet cover were also white, an assortment of burnt orange and mustard yellow throw pillows strategically placed. She walked across the room, running her hand along the tribal printed wallpaper on the wall behind the bed.

It wasn't her normal set up, but it would do.

The window on the opposite side wall allowed her to see out on to the land, giving her a perfect view of her friends and their wild counterparts. She looked around, needing to buy herself time.

"I _have_ been traveling all day." Michonne said to herself. "And I _could_ use a shower. Hell I think I've earned a bubble bath just for coming out here."

* * *

She'd taken her time bathing, letting the water reach the perfect temperature with just the right ratio of bubbles to water. Michonne needed to make this process stretch. So now, all clean and dried, she sat slowly lotioning her body. She massaged deep into the heels of her feet, sliding her fingers downward and in between each toe. She worked her way up both legs, left then right. Just as she pushed down on the pump for more lotion, a soft knock from the door filled the room.

_Shit_. Sasha must've ratted her out.

"It's open." She called out, bracing herself for Maggie's excitement.

But it wasn't Maggie.

It was a man.

A handsome man.

And she...well, she was in a towel.

"I'm Rick Grimes. I just wan-" He froze, eyes on her. "Sorry. I didn't mean to uh-..I didn't realize that you were..I can come back."

Michonne quickly slid the plush robe that had been hanging in bathroom onto her body. She secured it around the waist and stood to meet him, hand extended.

"It's fine. I'm the one who should be apologizing. I thought you were Maggie."

He took her hand and they both just stood still for a moment. Her hand, freshly lotioned , felt like silk in his. His were rough and dry. They were hands toughened by years of manual labor. These hands knew work. And oddly enough, she liked the feel of them. She felt like she should say something, but her tongue was stuck and her lips were super glued together.

The man had movie star looks, hidden in some podunk Georgia town. His eyes were crystal blue, clearer than a summer sky. Pink lips fought to be seen through a lush beard. And his head was covered in thick ringlets that had somehow escaped hat hair, if the Stetson under his arm was any indication.

He made a move first, slowly pulling his hand away but never breaking eye contact.

"I'm Rick Grimes. This is my place." He told her, his hands gesturing around him . "I just like to stop in with my guests. Say hello, make sure everythin' is to their likin'. And I already met everyone else so I just wanted to stop in with you."

"I haven't seen everything. But the tub worked wonders." Michonne told him, rolling her shoulders.

Red crept up Rick's neck. "Glad to hear it."

"Bed's a little smaller than I'm used to, though." She challenged him.

"What's your name, Miss?"

"Michonne."

"Mi-shown?" He tested in a thick southern accent and earned a nod from her. "Well, unfortunately, I can't get you a bigger bed. But if there is anythin' else I cando for you, let me know."

"Anything?" She questioned, a mischievous glint in her eye.

He nodded, not challenged by her forwardness.

"I'll hold you to it, Mr. Grimes."

"Oh, please do. And call me Rick."

_Good ol' southern hospitality. Maybe this weekend wouldn't be a bust after all._

* * *

"They say that you should let the horse pick you." Maggie commented to her group of friends and their blank expressions. She was practically bouncing with each step she took.

It was time for horseback riding and the group was currently following Rick inside the stables.

"Who, exactly, is they?" Rosita mumbled and scrunched her face in skepticism. She looked at the girls beside her. Michonne, Sasha, and Tara all shrugged.

"It's true!" Beth, Maggie's little sister, told them. "I learned it when I was a Girl Scout."

"Oh, of course. Girl Scouts- where you learn all of life's important lessons." Tara commented sarcastically , nudging Sasha and Rosita while they stifled laughter.

The group had never been too keen on Beth. They'd taken to calling her "The Shadow," though they'd never admit it to Maggie. From the time they'd met, Beth had been set on following her sister around, but she just wasn't all there. There was only a few years between the sisters, but she was light years away in terms of interests and maturity.

Rick came to a stop and turned to face them. He smiled politely, in an attempt to hide the fact that he'd been listening (and laughing along to) the women's conversation.

"I'm just gonna get y'all matched up here."

The last ten stalls were where he housed his horses for beginning riders, which he'd assumed this group was. And the lack of excitement on most of their faces confirmed it.

He opened a stall to a horse for Maggie. Rick explained that Arabians could get a little hot tempered, but he'd had Lila for years and she'd always been steady and quiet.

Maggie grinned, running a hand down the braided mane. "She's perfect. And white, like a wedding dress!"

As if they were one half of the same person, Tara and Rosita rolled their eyes and playfully mocked Maggie in sing-song voices. Michonne swatted at them in an effort to get them to quiet down.

"You'll have to excuse them. They think being in a barn means you have to act like the animals. Please continue, Rick." Michonne told him.

He smiled at her and sent a quick smirk and nod to acknowledge her and carried on. He finished pairing each woman with a horse and led them out to the open area behind the stable. There was acres of open space on the property and a riding trail branching off from the far side of the land.

"Alright, has anyone here ridden a horse?" Rick questioned them.

They were circled around him and his own chestnut brown steed. Maggie and Beth's hands shot up. Sasha raised her's hesitantly and the others stayed down.

He nodded. "That's fine. Our trail is real easy, perfect for beginners. I'm just gonna show y'all how to mount and dismount 'em, get 'em going, and stop. Real simple stuff."

"That's all we need to know?" Rosita questioned him with a quirked brow.

"Yes ma'am. That's it."

Rick went through the steps he knew they'd need. He showed them how to lower the stirrups and properly lift their bodies onto the saddles. He went over the proper way to move the reins and the commands they should use. The lesson ended with him swinging his leg back over and removing himself from the horse.

"Any questions?"

The group was silent. Michonne didn't know about everyone else, but she'd missed most of the lesson. Their teacher was...distracting to say the least. The Georgia sun and ranch work had combined to turn him into some sort of honky tonk god.

His skin, tanned and freckled from long days in the sun, made the denim of his outfit pop. His arm bulged in the sleeves of his shirt and his ass sat firm and on display once he'd gotten situated in the saddle. It became more of a free show than a useful instruction.

Rick clasped his hands together, sweeping his gaze across the women. "I guess y'all got it. Maggie let's start with you. Hop up on her."

She pulled the stirrups down and slid her left foot in. Pivoting her body so she and the horse were side by side, Maggie pulled herself up and successfully mounted he horse.

"Good job!" Rick told her while she clapped for herself. "Now you."

He went down the line one by one. Each woman completed the move, some a little less gracefully than others, but successful nonetheless. And then it was Michonne's turn. Luckily she'd had her friends' attempts to fill in the gaps she'd missed when she zoned out.

She did the same as everyone else, rattling the steps off in her brain. S_tirrups down on both sides. Hold reins close to the horse's neck. Left foot in. Body parallel. And lift._ Her body left the ground, but not quite high enough to get a leg over. _Lift._ Again she was up, but just shy of where she needed to be.

Rick stepped up behind her. He was too close for someone she'd only met hours ago, but his scent was rugged and intoxicating and she wasn't going to tell him to move.

"Georgie is the tallest. Let me help you out."

Michonne nodded, not even thinking about what is help would be.

"Put your foot in the stirrup again." She did as she was told. "Now lift on up."

She was about halfway up the side when his hands wrapped around her waist. He lifted her like she was feather-light, despite having to reach over his head. Finally high enough, she swung her leg over and sat in the saddle.

"Now scoot forward just a little." His hands moved lower, scooting her into the perfect position and grazing her ass. "Perfect." He mumbled.

Michonne smirked as she watched Rick retreat to his own horse to lead them on the trail. She couldn't help but wonder, and maybe even hope a little, that his comment had more to do with her posterior than her position on the saddle.

Their ride was surprisingly pleasant. The views from the trail were gorgeous. Slowly, as they made their way toward the creek at the back of the land, the complaints started turning into contented sighs. Breathtaking views silenced naysayers and they found themselves wanting to stay longer on their little adventure.

They watched the beginnings of the sunset before Rick wanted to get them back. With their inexperience and the impending darkness, he didn't want any injuries on his hands and they set out for the main house.

Everyone split to take showers and rinse away the day's activities, with an agreement to meet up for dinner. No one wanted to admit it just yet, but Maggie might have found a gem in the ranch. It was refreshing to get away. They weren't bogged down by business or lost in city life.

And as Michonne emerged from the en-suite for the second time that day, she couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. She was dressed comfortably, in palazzo pants and a cropped tank, as the rest of their activities were indoors for the night. She made her way downstairs, expecting her friends' raucous laughter and loud voices. Instead she was met with Chris Stapleton's voice crooning from the speakers and a smell that reminded her of trips to her grandmother's.

Everyone else must have been getting ready still. She decided to head into the kitchen, but she stopped in the entry way and just stood and watched Rick. He moved effortlessly, chopping and mixing with the ease of a professional.

"He rides horses and he cooks? What romance novel did you come from?" Michonne made her presence known and sauntered into the kitchen.

"Oh..it's nothin'."

"Nothing? It smells like a southern granny's been in here all day"

Rick laughed and wiped his hands on the towel he'd flung over his shoulder. "Can I get you a drink?"

"Whatever beer you have will be fine." She told him and he smirked.

"Will do."

Rick had been on his best behavior. But from the moment he'd laid eyes on Michonne she'd been testing his willpower. He had every intention to stay professional, but the more she looked at him and he at her, his thoughts drifted further from wholesome.

She was leaning on the counter, ass poked out and toned biceps on full display. Michonne pushed herself up when he slid the beer toward her.

"You want a glass?" He questioned, already on his way to get one.

Michonne shook her head and waved her hand. "I'm good. You need help?"

"You're supposed to be on vacation. I can't put you to work."

"You can if I'm offering." She told him, taking a swig out of her bottle.

"Well I'm declinin'. Besides I'm just about done. Ribs just need about ten more minutes on the grill." He told her nodding toward the side door that led outside.

"Are you joining us for dinner?"

Rick shook his head. "Nah. I'll be out of y'all's way til mornin'. But I'll be right upstairs if you need somethin'."

Michonne nodded at his words. She pushed away disappointment. She wasn't here for a man. It was a girls' weekend and even though she was attracted to Rick, she didn't know him.

He interrupted her inner turmoil, speaking again. "Maggie tell you y'all are gettin' the eggs for breakfast yourselves?"

"She did not." Her voice was flat and her face was unimpressed.

"This really isn't your thing, is it?" Rick questioned, sitting on a stool on the opposite side of he island.

Michonne eyed him in all his rough cowboy glory. "It's growing on me."

His blue eyes bulged and he gulped. "Is that so?"

She nodded, a devilish smirk on her face. They just stared for a moment, unable to speak but unable to look away from one another. Michonne pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth, absentmindedly running a finger around the lip of her beer bottle.

Rick was frozen in time, stuck just watching her watch him.

"I think you might be trouble." His voice was gruff, deeper than it'd been just five minutes prior. She liked it.

"You should probably go check on those ribs." Michonne told him, looking down. She picked up her bottle, needing a distraction but frowned when she found it empty.

Rick finally stopped staring. He stood from the chair, licking his lips as he made his way toward the door. "I probably should."

A fit of coughs erupted from behind Michonne. She jumped, swiveling around to foreheads and eyes peeking out from a corner.

"Are y'all done?" Sasha spoke first and Michonne could hear the grin in her voice.

She played dumb. "Done with what?"

"You and Cowboy Rick were eye fucking! I thought he was about to lay you across that island." Tara nearly shouted. Her fellow spies burst into laughter, finally filtering into the kitchen.

"I'm glad he didn't. I'm starving. And I love you girl, but I'm not eating where your ass has been." Rosita added and the laughter grew.

"Guys..come on. She's not laughing." Maggie quelled her friends and walked toward Michonne.

"Because we weren't eye fucking." She told them, throwing up air quotes around the words.

"I believe you, Mich."

"Thank you, Maggie. At least someone has some sense."

Maggie got close to Michonne's ear, whispering so no one else would hear.

"But feel free to bring him to the wedding. I bet he'd look real nice in a suit. Great for pictures."

Michonne playfully pushed her back toward the others. "You're just as bad as them! Besides don't focus on me. This weekend is about you. Where's the penis pasta? The edible undies? The-"

A red-faced Rick interrupted Michonne's ranting, coming back in with a tray full of barbecue ribs. He'd only caught the tail end of the conversation, but it was enough for him to definitively conclude that Michonne was trouble. With the ribs done and the sides in serving dishes, Rick disappeared and the party officially commenced.

With plates filled high and cold drinks in hand, the women gathered around the large farmhouse table. They tucked into their meal and for a moment the only sound was silverware on dishes and satisfied signs from the perfectly seasoned down home meal.

"So..one dick for the rest of your life, eh? Tara commented nonchalantly, finally breaking the silence.

Five heads whipped in her direction before laughter broke out. Tara had never been one to filter whatever inappropriate thought passed through her mind. Though it had led the group to more than a few sticky situations, they loved her just the same.

Despite their differences, they really were a group of sisters and each of them played a role. Maggie was the mom of the group; optimistic and kind, she saw the best in them. So it made all the sense in the world that she'd be the first to get married.

"Yes, Tara. It's what adults do. We commit." Maggie threw some not-so-subtle shade in her friend's direction.

"I've committed to multiple women before!" Tara stated indignantly.

"At the same time!" Sasha cackled. "It only counts if it's just one, T."

Tara rolled her eyes, ignoring her friend's jabs. "Whatever."

"And besides," Maggie commented while pouring herself another glass of wine. "Glenn's enough for me. And even if he wasn't, as long as I have friends like Mich who have men she's just met undressing her with their eyes, I'll be ok."

"Haha." Michonne enunciated both syllables and threw a roll at Maggie. "Why am I the butt of the jokes, tonight? I'm not the one who had you guys feeding goats."

"Eh, it was actually pretty fun." Rosita chimed in, previously unable to pull herself away from her food long enough to comment.

"Yeah, Michonne, it was great. Maybe Rick could take us back out there tomorrow so you could feed them." Beth told her with a bright smile.

"I'll just take you guys' word for it."

"Really? Are you sure you don't want to get in close with cowboy Rick again?" Sasha questioned and gave her friend an eyebrow wriggle.

She'd had enough. Ever the one for dramatic flair, Michonne pushed her chair back and stood on it. She cleared her throat as if she needed to get the attention of the friends who were already staring at her.

"This is supposed to be a girls weekend. Girls. We're here to spend time with each other. We need to get drunk, do face masks, watch stupid movies we haven't watched since college. When's the last time we did this? And who knows when the next time will be?"

Mumbling agreement swept her friends. Simultaneously, they nodded their heads and rolled their eyes as Michonne's need to get her point across in the most over the top way possible. She raised her drink, not quite done with her speech.

"So I say you guys forget about Cowboy Rick and we focus on each other. Dicks are a dime a dozen and Maggie's ballsy enough to commit to just one. We need to celebrate that. To Maggie's last hurrah." She said jutting her bottle toward the center of the table.

Her friends followed, wine glasses and beer bottles clinking together to signify the start of official bachelorette activities.

"To Maggie's last hurrah!"

And their night was a last hurrah. Despite the years that had passed since their freshman year, they were still those eighteen year old girls. They drank too much alcohol, danced to a mix of throwback hits, and force fed themselves fondant penis covered cupcakes.

Well, everyone except for Tara, who swore she'd lose her status as a gold star lesbian even though the dick was fake. So she passed it on, making a game of tossing it into Sasha's mouth.

They reminisced about college, recalling Michonne earning the nickname "Mimi 'Always Gets Her Man' Moreau and the weird tutor agreement that started as a way for Rosita to pass chemistry but morphed into a nerd named Eugene losing his virginity and an unexpected long-term relationship.

They drank some more; beers and liquor flowing freely while they were all away from their responsibilities. And they ignored Beth's requests for karaoke because they might've been tipsy, but they weren't drunk enough to want to hear that. They wanted to end the night on a high note and Beth's go-to rendition of "I Hope You Dance" was the exact opposite.

In their younger days, they would've trudged on. The night would've been young and they'd still have hours of activity left in them. But nearly a decade had passed since they were those wide-eyed eighteen year olds and they just couldn't hang like they used to. Nights of fun and frivolity had gotten shorter and shorter with each added year.

And now it was two in the morning and a round of yawns infected the women, passing through them like a wave.

"Should we do one more round?" Rosita posed. Her eyes, sleepy and hooded, contrasted her words and told them she needed sleep.

They shook their heads, not even trying to pretend to have anything left in them.

"I need my beauty sleep. Don't wanna scare the chickens." Maggie said through giggles. Always the lightweight, the alcohol hit her a little harder than everyone else.

"Then we should get you to bed." Sasha stated, standing to her feet. She reached for Maggie and checked her smart watch before mumbling to herself. "I wonder if Abe's still up."

Tara gagged dramatically. "And that's my cue to go."

"What? I'm not used to sleeping without him." Sasha frowned.

"Then you should be happy you'll have some room in the bed for once." Tara told her and jokingly made her body bigger. She spread her legs and held her arms of from her side, mocking Abe's size. Laughing to herself, she gently nudged Sasha and a stumbling Maggie toward to stairs.

They all started up the stairs, leaving Michonne laid across the loveseat.

"You coming, Mich?" Rosita called out

Michonne nodded. "Yeah, in a few. My legs are definitely feeling that horse ride. I just need a second."

Rosita nodded.

"Your thighs aren't on fire? None of you?" Michonne questioned.

They continued on their trek upstairs, shaking their heads to accompany their chorus of "nope"s.

Michonne scrunched her face, annoyed that she was the only one feeling the aftermath of their day. The late night dancing probably hadn't helped, but she had never been able to resist 'Can't Fight the Moonlight.' So when the song came on and she was transported back to their days mimicking Coyote Ugly in any bar that would let them stand on the counter, she had to show her friends that she still had it. However, the burning sensation came in ready to tell her that she might actually have been losing it.

She pushed herself up, maneuvering to swing her body vertical and set her feet back on the floor. Another push brought her to her feet and her legs nearly gave out. Michonne grunted against the noodle feeling of her thighs, slowly putting one foot in front of the other. The stairs were out of the question right now, a mountain range she wasn't quite ready to climb. But she couldn't sleep on the couch; this wasn't a frat house after a night of drinking or an old family friend letting her stay for a night during a road trip. Michonne decided on the kitchen. There had to be some type of pain reliever, or a muscle rub, if she was lucky in one of the cabinets.

There was no luck in the first few cabinets; only pots and pans, mugs and glasses. She was trying her darnedest to stay quiet, tiptoeing the best her sore legs allowed and only using the light of the moon shining through the large window. She smiled when she opened the pantry to find it perfectly organized, labeled mason jars and various baskets all perfectly grouped and sorted. Standing on her toes, she pulled on the basket filled with pill bottles. Her leg chose that exact moment to spasm, sending waves through her body. She jerked at the feeling, using one hand to steady herself on the lower shelves of the cupboard and sending the pills flying across the floor.

"Shit!" She mumbled to herself. Michonne stilled, listening for someone coming down but heard nothing. She sank to the floor, picking up the bottles one by one. She read each label before returning them to their original home in the basket. Scoffing as she neared he end of the supply, she saw that they were all vitamins and supplements. Michonne bit her lip, looking around the kitchen, racking her brain for the any possible hiding spots.

"I guess ice will do." Michonne grabbed a glass and limped over to what may have been the very first refrigerator to have an ice machine in the door. "Please be quiet. Please be quiet." She pleaded with the fridge, slowly inching her glass to the dispenser.

It wasn't.

The fridge shook and rattled, ice churning inside the door before they were deposited into her glass. Each cube made a loud clink, as it ricocheted off the sides and settled into the bottom. Michonne couldn't help but roll her eyes as each falling cube conspired against her to disturb the rest of the house. With her glass finally full, she turned and grabbed the dish towel that hung from the oven door and poured the ice inside.

She pulled herself up on to the counter and settled the ice on her thighs, a contented sigh escaping as the cool soothing feeling silenced her sore muscles.

"I thought you were a cat."

Michonne jumped at the sound of a voice, ice skittering across the floor. Rick approached her with a head of messy curls.

"A cat?"

Rick nodded. "Strays get in sometimes if I don't close the doors good. Run amok in the kitchen." He bent down to pick up the loose ice cubes and tossed them in the sink before turning and looking at her. Focusing in on her lap and the homemade ice pack that sat there, he raised his brows.

"Did I wake you?" She asked him softly. Normally she would've removed herself from his counter and apologized profusely, but the ice was doing wonders and she wasn't yet willing to take a chance.

He shook his head slightly. "I'm a light sleeper."

Rick took a step closer as if he was drawn to her. He was standing directly in front of her, staring just as he'd been all day. This time, however, he didn't try to hide it. Her friends weren't around and there were no prying eyes. They'd been brought together alone too many times for him to call in coincidence. Not with the way she looked at him or the way it made his insides twist.

"You alright?" He asked, pointing a finger at her lap.

"Just sore from the horse riding, I think. Is that normal? None of the other girls had a problem."

"Georgie's bigger than the other horses. She mighta been a bit, well harder to ride. I gave her to you 'cause I thought you'd handle her the best."

Michonne's brows shot up at his words. Rick's gaze was intense. His eyes reflected the moonlight. He was a predator on the loose as he inched closer to the counter where she sat- his prey. The sleep in his eyes was dissipating, a desire for something entirely different replacing it slowly.

"Your thighs?" Rick questioned, his voice taking that deeper tone from earlier. He removed the towel and sat it on the counter next to Michonne. She nodded slowly, her lips parted ever so slightly but her voice nowhere to be found. "Do you mind if I-?

"Go ahead." She rasped out, unable to finish the statement before his hands were on her right thigh. He massaged it, working the muscle between his calloused hands. "S'alright?"

"Perfect."

His fingers dug into her. The pressure calmed her aching muscle, but ignited a fire somewhere else. Michonne leaned back on her elbows and stared at Rick. She narrowed her eyes, watching his hooded eyes stare back at her.

"Your hands might be magic." She told him and leaned back completely. Her hands flew over her head, lost in the feeling of him being in her vicinity. "You keep all these animals alive, you grow shit, you cook a good ass meal. And you can do this?"

Rick moved so he was centered, taking a thigh in each hand. His thumbs worked circles into her inner thigh, while his other fingers drummed across the top of her leg. Living out here caused him to get good at a lot of things, town was far and he'd had to figure out how to do it all. He just rarely had anyone to display his talents to.

Michonne sprung back up. "Did I fall asleep on the couch?"

Rick chuckled, his laugh deep and sexy. He shook his head and gave her a smug smile. His hands never stopped working to relieve her of the soreness.

"I'm not dreaming?" Her legs were moving on their own, splitting apart like Rick was Moses. He slid into the now open space and wrapped his hands around the bottom of her thighs. With a swift yank, Michonne was at the edge of the counter.

"Michonne?" His brows were raised and his eyes danced across her face, closer than he'd been all day but still not close enough.

"Hm?"

"I'm gonna kiss you now."

"About time, Cowboy." She muttered, her lips already against his.

He was rough around the edges, bearded face and calloused hands. But he knew how to kiss. It was tender, completely unexpected from someone as rugged as he. His right hand inched up her neck, traced her jaw and got lost in her locs. He still held her thigh in his left, unwilling to chance her slipping just an inch farther from him. Michonne found herself lightheaded. She couldn't fathom that this slow, sensual kiss could somehow come from Rick.

Her core ached with need for him that made no sense, considering they'd known each other a hair over twelve hours. His grip on her was unrelenting and could've verged on painful had it been anyone else. But Rick was deliberate. He was fully in control. When he applied pressure to her nape, Michonne exposed her neck and Rick quickly latched on. She panted, lips swollen and brain fuzzy. Her own hand found its way to Rick's messy crown of curls, her fingers massaging his scalp.

"Rick." Her call was barely above a whisper. She couldn't form words as her chest heaved. Her body was short-circuiting, overloaded by Rick. "Fuck." It was all she could get out. It wasn't articulate or lady-like, but it got the message across.

She could feel him against her sex. The thin pajama pants did nothing to conceal his growing member and only offered a minimal barricade between the pair. He abandoned her neck, targeting her lips again. His tongue grazed hers and he couldn't quiet the grunt that fell from his lips. Rick pulled her bottom lip between his teeth before he pulled his head back to take her in.

Her eyes were glazed over, their dark brown barely visible in the moonlit kitchen. She was a vision. Rearing to go just for him. As hot as it sounded, he couldn't take her in the kitchen. He needed to work her thoroughly and without the possibility of interruption.

"Upstairs?"

She nodded, her mouth still agape while she tried to catch her breath. "Wait," she whispered with a bashful smirk. "I don't think I can make it to my room, let alone yours."

Within a second Rick hoisted her up, his hands settled into gripping her ass. Their faces were millimeters apart, nose to nose and lips a breath away. "Lucky for you, ya don't have to."

Michonne anchored herself to him, hands clamped to his shoulders. Rick buried his face into her neck and relied solely on muscle memory to get them to the stairs. His feet were on autopilot, leaving the rest of him to focus on the woman in his arms. Each step he took jostled her. Her breasts bounced against his chest and her heat repeatedly found its way to his crotch. It was almost too much. He thought he'd have to stop and have his way with her on the stairs, but he trudged on.

The third floor was like a studio apartment. A small kitchenette, living area, and large bed came together to create Rick's abode. She had no time to look around before he tossed her into the cushioned softness of his bed. Michonne instinctively arched her back, her hands strewn above her head while she gazed at the man in above her. Rick peeled his shirt off and used his knee to nudge her legs apart. He practically dived on top of her, situating himself between her legs and finally having free range over her body.

Rick splayed his fingers across the buttery soft skin of her abs and pushed upward. He inched her shirt over her head and brought her breasts into view. Michonne bit her lip, anticipation building by the second. Their attraction was palpable and the air in the room was thick. "Rick." She whimpered. He wasn't moving fast enough. Her desire pooled with each passing moment and they'd have time for gentle later; but right now, she needed him in a way that gentle couldn't cure.

Never one to give up control, Michonne mustered her strength and flipped them over so she was straddling him. If her thighs hurt now, they'd be excruciating by morning. But that was a problem for then and her current problem was much more urgent. She sat up enough to push her pants down her thighs and situated herself on Rick's still clothed bulge. Michonne rocked back and forth, moving her panty-clad pussy over his dick as she leaned forward and caught his lips again. She raked her fingers down his chest, hooking them in the waist band of his pajama pants. In one swift motion she had his sleepwear and underwear down his legs.

Michonne never stopped rocking and kept eye contact as she took his length in her hand. He was warm and dripping precum, obviously more than ready for her. Her desire soaked through her panties and she couldn't wait any longer. She yanked the fabric to the side sat on his cock with a grunt.

"Shit." Rick huffed through gritted teeth. His hips bucked involuntarily while he tried to form words. "Uh..um..a c-condom?" He finally huffed out.

Michonne leaned forward, licking from his chest up his jaw to his earlobe. "I'm on the pill." She mumbled breathily in his ear and moved to his other ear, kissing and nipping. "So you can fuck me as hard and deep as you want."

The combination of dirty talk and her being so wet and tight sent him reeling. He had to take deep breaths to stop himself from cumming right then. His hands flew to her hips, digging into her flesh. The sight before him was overwhelming. Michonne threw her head back and her long locs tickled his thighs. Her pussy lips gripped his shaft and her breasts went wild with each bounce of her body. "Fuck, Michonne."

Rick was too close to the edge and the experience had only just begun. He gripped her hips and lifted her with the same ease as the two previous times he'd picked her up that day. He flipped them over and aligned her body with the edge of the bed. Rick planted one leg on the ground and used the other to stabilize himself on the mattress, effectively straddling Michonne. He hovered over her for a moment, admiring her smooth back and plump ass. Rick bent down and placed open mouthed kisses across her naked skin. He ventured even further and licked his wide flat tongue along her slick folds.

Michonne whimpered underneath him. She missed the sensation of his dick filling her so completely, but his tongue had a magic of its own. He plunged his fingers into her, taking complete control of her. Three digits pumped in and out of her, while he continued his relentless assault with his tongue.

"Don't stop." Michonne whispered, in a haze. She circled her hips as Rick slid his other hand underneath her body. The added sensation of his slender fingers against her clit sent her over the edge. Shaky legs and comforter muffled cries welcomed her first orgasm and Rick greedily lapped it up.

"Well shit, cowboy." She says through a lazy smile, her voice still quieted with her face in the mattress.

Michonne tried to roll over but Rick pressed a hand to her back, keeping her in the same position. He lays his body atop hers, their lips meeting in a sloppy kiss over her shoulder as he slides back into her canal. He's still for a moment and they just enjoy the feel of their bodies being connected. But Michonne gets impatient. Clamoring to her hands and knees she rocks back against Rick's rock hard cock.

"Dammit woman." Rick hisses while steadying himself on his knees. He meets her thrust for thrust. Heavy breaths, moaning, and the slap of skin to skin fill the room. Rick collects her locs in his head, giving them a gentle but firm tug.

"Ooh. Yeah, right there." Michonne whined, her voice uncharacteristically high. His dick reached uncharted territory and she lost her voice. She arched her back, resting her head on her folded arms. Their hips met in loud, rhythmic movements and they found their releases.

They fell in a heap, limbs still tangled. Rick pecked her lips and rolled over, his body still facing her direction. She was hard not to stare at, her beauty too commanding in such close proximity.

He cleared his throat.

"I don't do this often if that's what you think. I'm usually- hell, always up until now- much more professional with my guests."

Michonne propped her head on her arm and stared at him with a lazy smirk. He could've been speaking Czech and she'd nod along in her current sated state. She shrugged and stretched her arm out, tracing his collarbone. "It's okay if you do." She shrugged nonchalantly.

Rick locked his fingers with her's and pulled her hand to his lips. "But I don't. It's just you. Its almost like I had no choice with you. I saw you earlier and that was it."

She stayed quiet, still succumbing to her post-coital high. The way his eyes looked her over somehow made her feel even more vulnerable than her nudity. His stare was intense, never wavering. And for some reason she loved the feeling of his absolute attention. She rolled on her back and closed her eyes, allowing him to continue the now one-sided staring match.

"Michonne?" His voice rang out in a whisper after a moment. Her breathing had evened out and he wasn't sure if she'd fallen asleep.

"Hmm?" She hummed, a small smile still playing on her lips.

"I know we don't know...well, anything about each other; but I'd like the chance to get to know you. To take you out sometime."

The small smile transformed into a full blown grin. "I live in Philly, Rick."

"And I can get there on a plane, just like you got down here today. Hell, I'd ride a horse all the whole way up there if it meant seein' you again."

Michonne stayed flat on her back, mulling over his words. She knew people weren't perfect, but in the limited time she'd been in Rick's presence, he was pretty damn close. Slowly, she pried one eye open and was met with two very blue, very expectant orbs peering back at her.

His hopeful expression made her skin tingle and she couldn't help but think back to Maggie's words about how he'd look in formalwear. She's already decided that her favorite Rick Grimes' look was naked and between her legs, but picturing him in a tux led her to believe it'd be a close second. Michonne couldn't help but groan internally, knowing her friends would give her shit for this. Still, she couldn't think of a better official first date than celebrating the person who had unknowingly brought them together.

She finally opened both eyes and rolled over so they were face to face again.

"Are you free on September third?"


End file.
